Chapter 2 - THE WATCHMAKER’S CIPHER
The silence in the dining room felt heavy enough to shatter the crystal on the table. Julian’s thumb remained pressed against the charcoal letters on my napkin.
"My father," Julian repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "trusted exactly two people with this cipher. One is dead. The other disappeared twenty years ago."
I kept my hands folded neatly over my starched apron, masking the tremor in my fingers. "My mother was an archivist, Mr. Vance. She cataloged items that powerful people preferred to keep hidden."
Julian stepped closer, invading my personal space. The scent of cedar and expensive scotch clung to him. "Eleanor—my stepmother—thinks she has me boxed in. But if you know my father’s cipher, you know about the Luxembourg accounts."
"I don't care about your accounts," I said firmly, breaking the subservient housekeeper persona. "I care about survival. Eleanor isn't just trying to take your company. She’s trying to erase your father’s final failsafe."
A muscle feathered in Julian's jaw. He turned away, running a hand through his hair. I thought I had broken through to him. But then, he walked over to the discarded blazer Marcus had left behind in his struggle with security. Julian reached into the pocket and pulled out a tarnished silver pocket watch.
May you like
My breath caught in my throat.
"If your mother was just an archivist," Julian said softly, his eyes locked on mine, "why was Marcus carrying the watch she was wearing the night she died?"
